


Bathtime

by koalawhisperer



Series: Jimlock Fluff [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bubble Bath, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Jim knows just how to fix Sherlock's bad moods, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 11:10:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2545376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalawhisperer/pseuds/koalawhisperer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine Sherlock coming home really tired and irritated after an awful day on a case, and he's really angry and stressed and snappy and at first Jim gets irritated right back, but then he realizes that it won't solve anything, so instead he pulls Sherlock in for a long kiss and they go take a bath. ~Jimlock anon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bathtime

Some days, Sherlock was able to tolerate the ordinary world, if only barely. He was able to tolerate the ordinary people, was able to make it through contact with them without wanting to murder anyone. On others, the slightest touch or wrong look irritated him to no end and made him want to rip his hair out by the roots or figure out some elaborate plan to commit a mass genocide without getting himself caught. Today was one of those days. He'd been researching the latest serial killer case involving a seemingly random pattern that, no matter what, Sherlock couldn't crack. It was maddening for the genius, who was usually able to solve any sort of case within hours. But this one, no, this one was taking days, and it was trying Sherlock's patience. Lestrade's men, especially bloody Anderson, had been exceptionally irritating, constantly interrupting with their so-called 'theories' and disrupting Sherlock's investigation. He'd snapped constantly at the Yard's men, only adding to his stress level. And on top of all of that, he was exhausted. Sherlock had spent his entire day researching and investigating, barely taking a break to eat, and he'd not slept in two days. As such, Sherlock was in a terrible mood. And when Sherlock was in a terrible mood, it wasn't pretty for anyone.

In this case, the other person was Jim Moriarty. Sherlock knew the man had a temper of his own, but god, he could deal with it. Or he'd dish it back. He didn't even care at this point, he was so angry, so tired, so frustrated with the world that he needed to get it out. So as soon as he arrived home, Sherlock stormed up to the flat he shared with Jim, flinging the door open so forcefully that the knob slammed against the wall. The angry, tired detective flung his scarf off and to the side, not even bothering to hang up his coat. He spotted Jim and shot him an acidic look, earning an equally dour one from the consulting criminal as he put his laptop aside. Jim could take Sherlock's stroppy moods when they were directed towards other people, but when they were directed towards him, then, well, it never went well.

“Excuse you,” Jim spat as he stood and folded his arms across his chest, eyes glinting wickedly as he drew himself to his full height. “What the hell did I do to earn that look?”  
  
“Don't eve start with me,” Sherlock said with a cranky sort of tone. His nose wrinkled in a sneer as he practically growled his next words. “For your information, I'm exhausted, I had to deal with bloody _idiots_ all day, and I am no closer to solving that serial killer case than I am when I started. I can't get it, and dealing with people constantly interfering does not help me any! I can't figure it out, what is his pattern? What is...what is the key?” Sherlock gave a roar of frustration and tugged at his hair as his stress level and blood pressure rose.

“That doesn't mean you take this out on me!” Jim retorted as he watched Sherlock pace back and forth. “And for _your_ information, I've dealt with a string of difficult clients, dealt with mistakes that could have been avoided had the people on the jobs not been bloody idiots, _and_ I'm going to have to take this bloody thing in because the screen is going out. So don't you _dare_ talk about having a bad day. Don't even give me that.”

Sherlock tugged at his hair in frustration yet again, wanting nothing more than to shoot the wall. Or to somehow take out Lestrade's idiotic men without having it attached to his name. Christ, why had he even bothered coming home? He didn't need Jim lashing out at him; that only added to his sour mood. He should've stayed out, found somewhere to rest for the night, or return to Baker Street since he knew that John was with one of his dull dates. He had to laugh at himself for being such a fool. What had he expected, Jim to _comfort_ him? That wasn't in Jim's nature; at least, it wasn't on a normal day. Still, that didn't stop it from hurting when Jim glowered at him, when Jim lashed out with his recap of his own bad day. 

“I'll give you whatever I please! If I recall, _listening_ is part of this whole relationship! You certainly aren't doing that right now.” Sherlock snapped bitingly, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides as the muscle in his jaw tightened and his eyes flashed. Electricity seemed to crackle between the two men as they glowered at each other, tension building to an almost palpable level. Normally, this meant that one of them was about to slam the other against the wall as they began a searingly hot kiss, but that was not the case today. No, both men were frustrated and furious, so perhaps sex was out of the question.

“Christ, neither are you!” Jim said, throwing his hands up in frustration as he turned around to try and catch his breath. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger as his eyes closed. He had to calm down, that much he knew. He couldn't look at Sherlock without snapping, which wasn't doing either of them any good. The criminal ran his free hand through his already disheveled hair as he closed his eyes tighter and took deep breaths. Sherlock's footsteps padded lightly on the floor behind him; clearly the detective was pacing again. This wouldn't do. Neither of them were going to calm down at this rate, so something had to change. Fortunately, Jim knew just what to do.

With a heavy sigh, Jim strode purposefully over to Sherlock, and, once the detective was close enough, grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt and pulled him into a long kiss. He couldn't help but feel a rush of satisfaction when Sherlock froze, clearly flustered and taken by surprise. Oh, now that was quite a triumph, catching the observant detective off guard. The man was clearly still tense, torn between pushing Jim away and relaxing into his lover's arms to return the kiss. Still, Jim wasn't about to give up so quickly. He adored this, adored the challenge of making Sherlock melt and relax. It reminded Jim of their first time together, when Sherlock had been so hesitant to give himself to a man he'd considered his enemy.

_Come on, Sherlock. Give in. Relax..._ Jim thought as he kept the kiss going. 

Eventually, Jim got his wish, Sherlock's body relaxing against his own. Sherlock's long, strong arms wrapped around his body as the detective began to return the slow kiss, a soft hum escaping his lover's lips. God, Jim loved kissing Sherlock. It was such an intimate gesture, and it made his heart throb and pound just as hard as it had after their first one. Funny, that sort of thing was mentioned all the time in love stories, but Jim had never thought it could be true until, well, it became true. Sherlock's kisses made Jim feel so human, so wanted, and most importantly, proved to him that he was not alone in an otherwise lonely world. That by itself was quite an accomplishment. “Perfect,” Jim whispered against Sherlock's lips between slow, tender kisses. “Thank you.”

Jim kept the kisses going until they were both breathless and slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen, holding Sherlock tenderly in his arms as he pulled away. One hand carded through the thick black curls as he cradled the other man as though afraid he'd break should he hold him too tightly. “Now...” he said breathlessly, looking up at Sherlock with wide eyes, expression worlds softer and more relaxed than it had been when Sherlock had arrived home. “Follow me.”

Curious as to what Jim had in mind, Sherlock followed his lover, keeping one hand in the criminal's. God, how was it that Jim knew how to calm him better than anyone else? How? Not that Sherlock was complaining about that bit of knowledge. It was always good to know that, despite their fiery personalities, Jim could find some way to calm Sherlock, be it through an impromptu massage (Jim was quite gifted in that area) or some other form of pampering. Sherlock had picked up on that as well, sometimes surprising the consulting criminal with a bit of TLC. Sherlock tilted his head a bit when they ended up in their spacious master bathroom, watching with intrigue as Jim let go to begin gathering supplies. The man obviously knew what he was doing, so Sherlock stepped back and let him work. After all, why interfere with genius at work?

Jim bustled around the bathroom, bare feet padding over tiled floor as he gathered what he needed. He gathered the bath salts, bubble bath, candles, towels, and a wireless speaker system before turning the tap on. This was a surefire way to get both of them to relax, a nice, long soak in the tub with bath salts and bubble bath. Jim tested the water several times with his hand, stopping the drain once it was perfectly warm. “Pick some music. Phone's on the sink,” Jim said to Sherlock as he filled the tub with bath salts and lit the red candles that he'd placed around the room. Jim could certainly pamper his detective, and now was a time when the man needed it. They both needed it. He smiled when soft classical music began to play over the speakers. Johann Sebastian Bach. "Excellent choice," Jim said as he stood back and admired the rather relaxing, romantic atmosphere he'd created. Who said that a criminal couldn't bring out the romance?

Jim gave Sherlock one last long, lingering kiss as the tub filled with the warm water, gesturing to Sherlock to get in first since he was the taller of the two. “After you...” he said softly. Jim took the chance to admire Sherlock's long, lean body as the detective slowly, almost teasingly undressed, gazing at all of the muscle tone just beneath creamy white skin, all of the pink that tinged his face. God, Sherlock really was gorgeous all over, both mind and body. He was quite a lucky man, Jim. He'd gotten the whole package. A beautiful mind and a transport that was just as beautiful. A gentle smile crossed Jim's face as Sherlock settled himself into the tub with a soft sigh of pleasure, the warm water obviously soothing the man's tired, aching body.

“Your turn,” Sherlock murmured as he opened his eyes and gave Jim a smile. A beautiful, warm, smile that lit up his eyes and made him breathtaking. The candlelight flickered softly over Sherlock's skin, creating a soft orange hue that made him seem to glow in the dimmed light.

Jim slowly disrobed, giving Sherlock a bit of a show since he knew the detective enjoyed watching him. Oh, this was going to be lovely. Exquisite even. They didn't get much time to do this sort of thing, what with their busy lives. Once he was undressed, Jim got into the tub and settled himself between Sherlock's long legs, gently leaning against the detective's strong chest as strong arms slid around him. This was heaven, if such a place existed. Just the two of them, completely shut off from the rest of the world, enjoying each other and helping each other unwind after a stressful day. Jim closed his eyes, and just took deep breaths, adoring how Sherlock's breathing matched up with his own. This was absolute perfection, and Jim wouldn't trade it for the world. 


End file.
